


Unfinished Business

by aronnaxs



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Smut, here to represent bottom!cole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 15:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronnaxs/pseuds/aronnaxs
Summary: Neck-deep in the seedy mire of the Vice department, Cole spends an evening with a ghost from the past, and discovers repressed feelings.





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> so months ago, I posted Golden Boy and mentioned a 9000 word Stefan x Cole smut fic I had been working on. Here it is after so long haha
> 
> Originally I was gonna make this multi chapter but I edited it around a bit and made it a one shot ~~~ Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love these two so much omg

“Detective Cole Phelps, Badge 1247, I have an urgent message?”

It is almost 7pm when Cole finally gets back to Central. He’s been on his feet since 5 that morning, grinding his way through the hours in a stream of hazy morphine haunts. The sleaze and grime feels as though it’s got under his skin. He usually wouldn’t care, but Roy’s snide comments have been scratching at him all day. So when the officer at the desk gives him a blank look, he feels the latent frustration surge in him.

“I was called back to the station. Is this regarding the case, because, if it is -“

“I’m sorry, Phelps, but this was the only way I could get hold of you.”

Cole turns to see Stefan Bekowsky coming along the corridor towards him. He is grinning smugly, holding out a hand for Cole to shake. Cole looks him up and down, and says the first thing that comes into his mouth. Not a greeting after their months of being apart since Cole was promoted from Traffic. Not a congratulations that Stefan has made it to Homicide. Instead, “that’s an improper use of police resources, Bekowsky.”

“Well, Phelps, you’ll just have to forgive me this one time.” He is still smiling. He grips Cole’s hand, shakes it, and pulls him away from the main desk. “I know you’re busy. I bet Roy’s got you bumping shoulders with only the best up in Vice.”

“What did you want, Stefan?” He wishes he has something nicer to say to him, but really, Stefan’s timing is not great. Not tonight, and not earlier either, when he had popped up during his case. Suddenly, he was there, alongside Rusty, like two ghosts out of Cole’s past. Cole has come a long way since they were his partners. For a moment, it had thrown him off. A reminder that it isn’t just up, up, up. But Stefan is not offended at his curtness. Of course he isn’t. It takes more than that to offend Stefan. Not like Roy, he thinks.

“Alright, Cole, don’t give me the third degree. I’m not here with bad news. I just wanted to ask you what you’re doing tonight.”

Cole stops. “I have to be here early tomorrow.”

“I didn’t ask about tomorrow.”

“I -“

“You want to go out for a drink with me? Come and have some fun for once.”

Cole obviously doesn’t answer in time, because Stefan is slapping him on the arm and smirking, “you do know what that is, don’t you? It’s where you’re not here working.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Who cares what you shouldn’t do? C’mon, I’m not taking no for an answer. You look like you need it. And if you don’t, you’ll force me to take Rusty. And I don’t want to do that.”

Even Cole can’t help smiling at that. He and Rusty had been like chalk and cheese, he can’t even imagine what Rusty and Stefan are like together. Stefan latches onto his smile. “Can I take that as a yes?”

“Fine. But I’m not staying late.”

Stefan rolls his eyes. “Not on a school night, I know. I’ll see you in - an hour?”

“The Blue Room?”

“Pff. Does that place look like my kinda joint, Phelps? Meet me at Cavanagh’s.”

“Just like old times.”

“I hope so.”

Stefan smiles and leaves him. Cole doesn’t realise at first how he watches him go. I hope so. The words, and the way Stefan said them, stick in his head. Just like old times. It has been a long time since they were partners, but, seeing him again today, Cole really remembered how long. So much has happened that Cole can barely keep a handle on it. Back in Traffic, it was simple. He tells himself that that is why his chest suddenly feels a little tight. He doesn’t want to put his foot through those memories.

When he pulls up outside Cavanagh’s later, his throat is still dry. It is embarrassing. At 10am that morning, he walked into an apartment with two dead morphine OD’s in, and he had been less nervous than this. Get yourself together, Cole, he thinks. You’re overanalysing again. It is just Stefan. Stefan is the least intense of all his partners. Stefan is probably the least intense man he has ever met. Maybe he really does need that tonight.

He gets out of the car. There is already music leaking out of the bar, and people are shouting inside. The last time Cole set foot in here was during his first case in Traffic. His first case as a Detective. Now, he is waist-deep in the mire of Mickey Cohen’s drug racket. Those abandoned cars and wrecks seem like a walk in the park now.

He pushes the doors open, and is immediately swept up in a sea of people. They are packed to the walls, barely a space to breathe in between them. Cole pauses. There is no way in hell he’s going to find Stefan in here. The bar is drowned in cigarette smoke and cheap cologne. A thick fog covers every direction he looks in. Someone has strung birthday decorations around the side of the room. Stefan couldn’t have picked a worse time or a worse place. 

Cole shoulders his way through. No one even seems to notice him. He is tempted to give it all up and call for Stefan, when a hand suddenly emerges through the buffeting bodies. Cole jerks. Stefan appears, jostled back and forth. “Cole, Jesus, I had - no idea - going to be - this!” he shouts, some of his words crushed beneath the crowd.

Cole wants to suggest they go somewhere else, but Stefan is pulling him along. They fight their way to the bar. Someone bangs Cole in the back and he half-staggers into Stefan. He catches him. “Steady there, partner, we haven’t even started drinking yet.”

There isn’t even anywhere to sit, but Stefan leans over and orders them a Scotch on the rocks each. He has to practically yell at the bartender. This isn’t what Cole had imagined. He can barely hear himself think, let alone anything else. The music is not the smooth jazz tones of the Blue Room, but has been turned up too loud on the jukebox in the corner. Everyone is shouting over it to be heard. 

“Cheer up, Cole!” Stefan bellows, suddenly right up close. “We’re having fun, remember?”

“You call this fun?” he shouts back. 

“What?!”

Their drinks arrive. Cole tries to take a sip but someone jams him again, and he almost spills it down his three-piece. Stefan, obviously more experienced in this place, knocks some back without losing a drop. He wipes his mouth and tries to say something. Cole frowns and shakes his head. He attempts it again, but all Cole can hear is someone singing an impromptu happy birthday behind him. “I said - how have you been?!” He gets it at last from reading Stefan’s lips. That is not a question he can answer by yelling single words across a barroom.

“Alright!” he says though. Even amidst all this noise, where no one can hear, it still feels like a lie.

“Rusty... asking - off too!”

Cole leans in. 

“Rusty keeps asking if you pissed me off too!”

Cole nods. 

“I said yes. Especially when - things you did - pissed me off - got you promoted!”

“Stefan, I can’t hear you!”

“What?!”

Jesus Christ. “I. Can’t. Hear. Anything!”

“Oh!” Stefan raises his head and looks around. He suddenly grips Cole’s arm so hard that he nearly drops his drink. “This way!”

Cole has no choice but to follow him. They struggle back through the crowd, losing the bar behind them. Stefan is bigger than him - Cole won’t say stronger - and he still has his LAPD badge on his belt. He pushes back his jacket and one glance at that gets people moving a bit better. They wind their way back towards the booths. The deafening din is a little deadened back here. There is at least a little breathing space around the tables. Stefan stops and turns. Cole is suddenly almost chest to chest with him. “Better?” Stefan asks.

Cole nods. 

They sit down, bumping knees beneath the small table. Cole has had a list of things he wants to talk to him about - a regular interrogation - but now they are here, nothing comes to him. In the middle of all the noise, he falls quiet, and can do nothing but sip his drink and watch Stefan get drunk. This is nothing like what he had thought. What had he wanted? Something away from all this. He is sick of bars and seedy joints and smoky back-rooms. If he had needed a night of all that, he would have tailed Roy to the 111 Club. 

A pretty waitress comes around. More drinks appear at their table. Cole tries to say something, but he manages to open his mouth before being drowned out. Stefan winks at him and smiles.

This is how it goes. Maybe an hour passes - maybe it’s only thirty minutes, it feels much longer - and Cole’s head is starting to hurt. He knows he should leave. He wants to leave. He has to be at the station early the next morning and there is a whole avalanche of case notes and reports waiting for him. Stefan has wanted to take his mind off all of it, but truth is, this night has only made him think of them more. His office is beginning to seem like a better place than this bar which is nothing like what he wanted it to be.

Stefan tries to feed him more Scotch. He waves him away. 

People come up to the table. “You’re the cop from the papers, right?” “Can I buy you a drink?” “Phelps - that’s your name, isn’t it?”

Cole nods awkwardly. He can’t ignore them here like he does on the streets. And neither can he pretend that he likes it. Without fail, though, Stefan will lean across and try to deflect some of that glory onto himself. “I used to be his partner,” he will grin. “Stefan Bekowsky.”

Finally, it gains him a dance. Cole is glad to have some purpose. Everything else has been a complete bust.

He watches Stefan across the room, spinning this girl in his arms. He doesn’t even know her name but they have already had more interaction than they have. He is trying to avoid him. Cole wonders why it bothers him so much. Stefan is the only person in the department near enough to be called his friend. Cole knows he is an outsider. He knows he can’t blend in. He doesn’t give a damn - this is his career, not the halls of high school. As long as he does his job, that’s all that matters. But still, he sits there in Cavanagh’s, stares into his nearly-empty glass, and is on his own, despite the crowds of people.

Someone wants to dance. He politely shakes his head, and moves onto Stefan’s Scotch while he is away.

Stefan comes back to him with a smile. He thinks he will tell him that he’s leaving with this new girl. Cole will damn well let him. Thanks for the night, Stefan, I might see you tomorrow. But Stefan places a hand on his shoulder and leans down to be heard. His alcohol-infused breath washes hotly over his neck. “Why don’t you come and dance, Cole?” he shouts into his ear.

Cole huffs.

“C’mon, there are plenty of people who want to dance with the Golden Boy of the LAPD.”

“No, Bekowsky.”

“C’mon!” He leans in closer, mouth almost against Cole’s ear. His hand unconsciously wraps tighter about his glass. “How about you dance with me?”

Stefan is drunk. Cole is not. He can’t tell if he is serious. “No one gives a damn, Cole. D’you think this is a classy joint?”

“You’re drunk, Bekowsky.”

“Not as drunk as I could be. Come on, kid.”

He pulls back and looks imploringly into Cole’s eyes. For a moment, Cole fears he is going to say yes. He thinks of Stefan’s arms around him like how they had been around that girl, and his throat closes up a little. Stefan’s hand has come down from his shoulder, and he thumbs his lapel, as if he is suddenly going to pull him onto the floor. Cole slowly untangles him. “No, Bekowsky,” he says again, firmer now. Stefan pulls away. He shrugs and Cole loses him again, back into the crowd.

He waits for another twenty minutes, maybe. He watches Stefan dance with these people he doesn’t know, and knows that he has been a pretty miserable companion. Stefan should have known that. He should have realised that before he brought him to this clogged, little, stuffy place. 

He starts to leave. He elbows his way through the party before Stefan can see. No luck with that. He gets outside and is just starting to relish the lightness in his lungs, when someone comes up on him from behind. “Where are you going?”

Cole carries on walking to his car. “I’m leaving.”

“Where?”

He doesn’t know yet. Probably back to the motel he has been going to so embarrassingly frequently. They’ve stopped asking questions there. “Home,” he lies. “It’s late. And this isn’t fun, Bekowsky.”

“That’s because you’re not letting yourself have fun. You’ve got a huge stick up your ass, Phelps, you know that?” Stefan stops him with a hand on his arm. He staggers at the sudden halt. Cole catches him. 

“Christ, Stefan, you’re meant to set an example. Now you’re stumbling out of bars like a drunk. You can’t drive home like this.”

“If you think this is the most drunk I’ve been, Phelps -“

“I’m not letting you in your car. Otherwise it’ll be your body Mal’s looking over in the morning. Come on.” His mind is already made up. Just like that. He is delaying the humiliating ride back to the motel. Delaying admitting what a failure this night has been. “I’ll drive you back to your apartment. Get in.”

Stefan gets into the passenger side. Cole makes sure he is strapped in. “You’re such a Boy Scout,” Stefan comments.

“There’s water in the glove compartment,” Cole says. “Drink it. It’ll help you.”

Stefan shakes his head. “Were you always this bad when we were partners? I don’t remember.”

“I doubt you remember much right now, Bekowsky.”

Cole pulls away from the bar. Stefan gives him directions back to his apartment. It is like old times - Cole in the driver’s seat, Stefan guiding him around the city. Stefan had always criticised his driving. Back then, Cole had been the new kid at Central, just promoted from patrol. Stefan hadn’t liked him at first, he knew that. But he’d warmed up quickly. Far quicker than Rusty. Far quicker than Roy. He misses how easy it had been with Stefan. Everything is like walking on egg-shells now, egg-shells that spill out every dirty crevice of his past. It was never like that before.

It will never be like that again. That is why he is wound so tight tonight. Even tighter than usual. Stefan is part of a time he will not get back.

They pass through the nighttime city in silence but from Stefan’s directions. Cole pulls into the parking lot of the apartment block and turns off the engine. It is even quieter now. Awkwardness creeps along his skin. “We’re here,” he says dumbly.

Stefan doesn’t say anything now. He has sobered up a bit during the journey, taking Cole’s advice about the water in the front, but he still doesn’t make any attempt to leave the car. Cole glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He is too tired for this. He has been on his feet all day, and now all he wants to do is... He doesn’t know. But this is - this is not what he wants.

“Are you angry at me?” he asks. “Are you angry because - what - I didn’t have fun tonight?”

Stefan shakes his head. “I’m not angry at you, Cole.”

“You avoided me all night.”

Stefan laughs. “We’re not a goddamn married couple, Phelps.”

“You invited me out, and then you avoided me. What is it? You’re angry that I got promoted before you?”

“That’s low, Cole.”

Cole doesn’t know why he said it. It has preyed on his mind since he got into Homicide, then Vice, and Stefan was still in Traffic. Maybe it is another reason he can’t relax. Stefan trained him up, Stefan helped him, then he left him behind. “I didn’t ask for it, Bekowsky,” he says, unable to pull out of this train of thought now. “I didn’t ask for any favours. I certainly didn’t ask to be Roy Earle’s partner. If I’d -“

“Cole. I’m not angry at you for that. For God’s sake, stop trying to find trouble where there isn’t any.”

“I had to move on. This is my career, Stefan. I couldn’t stay in Traffic forever.”

“Cole!” Stefan slaps a hand down on the glove compartment and turns to him. Cole doesn’t meet his gaze. He has been trying to convince himself of what he’s done, not Stefan. It has been the same spiel since he was promoted out of Traffic. Apparently, it hasn’t worked yet. But now Stefan is watching him, scrutinising him, and all that time since Traffic seems to play before him in sharp snapshots. There is such a void between them. “Okay, Cole, you want to know why I avoided you all night? You want to know, detective? Because I miss you. That’s right, I fucking miss you. And I don’t know why because you’ve just proved how goddamn annoying you can be. But I do. And I’m still drunk enough to admit it.”

Cole shuts up. He stares forward at his hands around the steering wheel. His throat is suddenly tight again. That is not an answer he can work with. That is not an answer he has an answer for.

Next to him, Stefan sighs and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll see you, Phelps,” he rasps bitterly. “I’m sure you’ll be promoted again soon.”

He is nearly out. Nearly out of his car, ready to go back to his apartment. Ready to stamp right through the last good memories Cole has. “Wait,” he says before he can change his mind. Stefan halts. “I - It’s... It’s different now, Bekowsky. What else - what else am I meant to say?”

“Different now? That’s it, is it? How about you say: I miss you too, Bekowsky. I know you do. I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for that, you said. Vice is fucking you up, Phelps. Roy is fucking you up. You’re going downhill and you don’t know what to do. I’m not stupid, Cole. I wish to God I could get you out of it, but -“ He waves his hands and begins to get out again.

“Stefan. For Christ’s sake, you’re being hysterical.”

“Hysterical? That’s because you’ve driven me fucking insane, Phelps.”

This time, he stops himself. Cole dares to glance over and look at his back. He hunches over and draws a weary hand across his face. Cole sighs. It seems his trail of destruction is much wider than he thought. Jesus, Stefan is meant to be the least intense of his partners. He didn’t come out for this tonight.

He still hasn’t let go of the steering wheel, as if he can control everything with it. He slowly unclenches his grip. He breathes out. “I - I guess I miss you too, Bekowsky,” he says, and means it. 

Stefan slowly pulls himself back into the car. He shuts the door. They are trapped again now. Trapped with this unbearable tension between them. It has been skirting around them all damn night.

“You’re fucking impossible, Cole, you know that, right?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to be like this.”

Stefan nods. He reaches out and seems to be about to put his hand on Cole’s arm. He changes his mind at the last moment and places it on his knee. Cole looks down at it. That same twist comes into his stomach as when Stefan had bent down to him at the bar, speaking into his ear. He turns to him. There is a beat of unbearable silence when that tension suddenly feels like a third figure in the car. Then Stefan is leaning in, bending across the gearshift, coming into his personal space. Cole’s heart stifles his throat. But he doesn’t pull away. He grips onto the steering wheel for dear life again. He can smell Stefan’s cologne below the scent of Scotch, and it is something new and strangely thrilling. He swallows. 

Stefan’s lips brush his. It is soft at first, testing the waters. Cole stays exactly where he is. He lets Stefan move closer, parting his mouth. His whole body shakes as he kisses him. Slow, leisurely, gentle, easing him through it. Cole feels a rush up his spine. He can do nothing more than respond. It feels like the right thing to do. Time slows down as they kiss, shut away in Cole’s Buick, in this almost-empty parking lot.

Stefan pulls away first. He looks at him in question, wondering if he has overstepped. Cole feels his breath catch. “Bekowsky,” he says simply. And then he is surging forward, reaching across, gripping Stefan’s arms and sealing their lips again. Desire suddenly floods to the surface. He hasn’t even realised it was there. But it comes rising up from some deep place and it feels so right. So, so right, like a hand saving him from drowning.

That tension heats up between them. Maybe that is what it has been all this time. Cole thinks - has he wanted this before, has he wanted this when Stefan was beside him in the car, has he wanted this when he was his partner, and he thinks - that doesn’t matter. He wants it now. His heart throbs in his ears, and his legs feel weak. 

Stefan pulls him as close as he can with the car in the way. He cups Cole’s face, breaks the kiss enough to breathe, then returns. He is slowly taking control, leading them, slipping his tongue into Cole’s mouth, gripping at his lapels. Cole’s pulse thunders and he knows Stefan must realise. He has never done this before. He knows in the War sometimes hands strayed for comfort, friends helped each other, but... This is not that. Cole is home now, he has another life, and yet he’s here in his car, kissing his former partner. He’s terrified. But he can’t - can’t - pull away. He wants this. He needs this.

He is panting when Stefan pulls away and lowers his mouth to his neck. He lays heated, half-frantic kisses over it and Cole can feel how much he desires him. His lips and tongue caress his fluttering throat, every touch a memento of this building warmth. It feels so good, like he has been waiting for this for so long. A hand touches his knee again and begins to rise up his thigh. Cole moves into it. Stefan clambers across the car just to be closer to him. It is so awkward. And despite the dizziness that has suddenly wrapped around his mind, Cole knows that they are still in the parking lot. It is too open.

“Stefan,” he says, head pressed back as Stefan scrapes his teeth over his throat. He swallows, trying to take back some control. “Stefan, this isn’t the best place.”

Stefan retreats for a moment. His eyes flick to the back of the car. “We could get in there.”

Cole takes a breath. He smooths Stefan’s collar, flicking at dust that isn’t there. The words won’t come to him. “Or maybe we could - maybe -“

“You want to come up to my apartment?”

It is an acknowledgement that they want more from this, that they are not just fumbling around in Cole’s car. He nods. “Sure,” Stefan says. 

Now the deal is sealed, neither of them want to wait much longer. They get out and Cole realises just how shaky his legs have become. The adrenaline is racing through his system, softening his nerves and muting the idea that he can’t do this, not with Stefan, not with Detective Bekowsky, a ghost from his past. He is so caught up in that past, he can’t get away from it. He wonders if he is just doing this for the idea of it. He is trying to ameliorate his mistakes and get away from this twisted, confused present. He loves the idea of Stefan and everything he represents. Is that all this is? But then Stefan is reaching out to him and taking his arm. The touch sends shockwaves through him. They go into the apartment block and start to take the long stairs up. Stefan smiles back at him and Jesus, Cole’s heart skips like a giddy schoolgirl’s. His body is rushing with anticipation. He wants Stefan. He wants him, nothing else.

This is their unfinished business.

The floors pass by. Of course Stefan has to be on the top one. Cole’s thoughts whir like crazy. For the last few months, he has been in and out of a discreet motel at the edge of the city, trying to lay low. His own house has become a frozen little snapshot, like a sterile photograph in a home catalogue. Ever since the end of the war, it hasn’t been the same. He can’t fit in there, even though that is where his whole life is. Marie looks at him differently, and he knows that she can’t see the man she married anymore. He has let her down too many times. He has thought it is best for her if he keeps his distance, leaving so much unsaid between them. Cold, cold, the whole thing feels cold. It is only his beloved daughters that keep him going back there. He hopes they can still recognise their father, after the war, after all that has happened to him since...

He has screwed up time and time again. It’s his fault. He’s drifting around in a kind of melancholy Purgatory, and he can’t settle anywhere. Central, Hollywood police station, the Blue Room, even Elsa’s apartment. That was a mistake, trying to find out what he wants. He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.

But then, here is Stefan. And this is different. Goddamn it, he doesn’t know why. But it is. And it scares him that he can’t work it out. Scares him, and thrills him. He hadn’t even known this part of him existed.

Stefan guides him down the top floor hall. His hand is squeezing tightly about his upper arm, keeping him close. They pass others and step apart appropriately. Cole feels as if they can see right through him. He hears a snatch of conversation - “the cop from the papers...” but concentrates on Stefan’s warmth so close beside him. It is a relief when they reach Stefan’s apartment. Stefan shuts the door, and Cole finds himself being shoved against it. It surprises him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it as Stefan is suddenly kissing him again. It is breathless and urgent, full of the need that has been building even more through their walk up here.

Stefan’s hand rises up and grips Cole’s thigh, hitching it around his hip. His knee goes between his legs. Cole tenses, unconsciously gripping Stefan’s shoulder. “The cop from the papers,” he says as he starts to pepper his neck with kisses. Cole’s head goes back against the door. “Look at the state of you. Your hair’s already a mess, your jacket’s half on... Do you think those people knew my hands were all over you?”

It is risky. This wood is hardly soundproof. But Cole finds he loves it. Stefan’s palms smooth over his waist and sides beneath his blazer, embracing him. He presses their bodies flush against each other. They are both aroused now, undeniably. Stefan’s thigh is in just the right place. He knows he must be getting redder and redder.

He kisses him again, over and over, messy, short exchanges that take their breath. Stefan takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down then soothing it with his tongue, and Jesus if that isn’t something. He does the same on his neck, and for a moment, Cole doesn’t give a damn if he makes a mark. He forces himself to think some sense. “Bekowsky, not here,” is all he can manage. Stefan understands.

He nuzzles against his face, lips inches away. “My bedroom?” he asks. Cole knows that this is the point where he could pull out and refuse. He doesn’t want to. Again, he nods.

They somehow make it across Stefan’s dark apartment. Stefan helps him through, switches on a light, and then he is on him again. It is like they can’t stay away from each other for more than a few seconds. Kissing again, abusing Cole’s bruised lips. Stefan strips him out of his jacket and goes to work on his vest and tie. “Christ, Cole, why are you in so many fucking layers?” he hisses.

Cole laughs breathlessly. It is beyond exciting to be wanted so much. It has been so long. But now, his own desire is matched by Stefan’s. He craves him, and the feeling is mutual. It is new and intense and amazing.

Stefan gets his vest off and attacks the buttons of his shirt. Cole is surprised when they don’t pop off. Stefan tugs him out of it, leaving just his undershirt beneath. He can’t deal with that now. He kisses at Cole’s neck to his collarbone, leading on to his exposed shoulders. Cole wraps his arms about him. He hears himself let out a surprised noise as Stefan suddenly lifts him off the floor. His knees clamp about his waist. Stefan looks at him, flushed red, hungry, and then he is being thrown back onto the bed. He lands on his back and god, his mind really must be going as that was such a turn-on.

Stefan, pulling off his jacket, crawls on top of him. Cole reaches up for him and curls his fingers around his suspenders, tugging him close. He feels Stefan nudge his legs apart so they bracket him comfortably. His knee presses against his groin and he starts to rub as he assaults his throat. Cole closes his eyes and sighs. “Wanted this since Traffic, you know,” Stefan says. “Used to think of doing this every night. Used to think of you like this.”

Cole swallows frantically. He had never known, never even had the faintest idea that Stefan had felt like this. He tries to think back and recognise any signs he had missed then, but truth is, he’s having trouble thinking of anything right now. He shifts beneath Stefan and watches with heavy eyes when he pulls back and sits up. Stefan keeps eye contact with him as he tugs down his suspenders and strips off his shirt and tie. Cole can’t help reaching up and placing his hands on his chest. Stefan takes one of them. “Bekowsky,” he says. “I’ve not done this before.”

“It would surprise the hell out of me if you had, Cole.” He grins. “Well, it’ll be just like when you started on the Traffic desk. I’ll be your experienced partner. Don’t worry -“ He leans down again and runs a hand between his legs. Cole flushes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He starts with stripping Cole’s undershirt over his head. Their mouths join again, and Cole doesn’t think he has ever got so much enjoyment out of just kissing before. That might be because it’s Stefan. Or because he has a palm pressed up between his thighs, rubbing him slowly. His breath is starting to come quicker. It hitches even more as Stefan leads his lips down his neck and over his bare chest. He covers every inch that he comes across, worshipping him, caressing old wounds, making him shake and quiver against the sheets. Cole can’t help closing his eyes, tilting back his head and sighing. 

“Bekowsky,” he says quietly, and feels the bastard smirk against his stomach. He takes it as a good sign to unfasten his pants and slide them off. Cole helps him by lifting his waist. His heart is beginning to thud a bit thicker. Anticipation curls inside of him, driven higher when Stefan kisses at his inner thighs, leaving marks and bites where no one else will see. Cole swallows. All the time Stefan’s hand is still pressing against his groin, the heel of his palm pushing hard at every other stroke and Jesus, he can feel his legs shaking. His hips work against Stefan, almost without him thinking about it.

“You alright up there, partner?” Stefan grins. Partner. Cole’s pulse skitters embarrassingly. He finds his voice.

“Are you gonna get on with it, Stefan?”

Another wink, just like back at Cavanagh’s. Suddenly, Cole understands why Stefan invited him there - he knew it was going to be busy, he knew that he would have to lean close to talk to Cole, to stand chest to chest, to get as near to him as possible... He wanted that. Now, he pulls back for a moment and they shuffle Cole out of his underwear. He knows he should feel nervous at being here, lying under Stefan, naked, but he doesn’t. He trusts him, even if they haven’t been partners for so long. He trusted him back then, a new detective working the cases with him, and he trusts him now, a worn-out detective with a reputation that is hard to keep up. Christ, he misses him. But he isn’t about to say that again. 

Stefan looks at him appraisingly. He places a gentle hand on his knee and spreads them a little more. “You still want to do this?” 

Cole huffs. “Are you going to try and make me beg? Because you know I won’t.”

“Is that right?” Stefan raises an eyebrow playfully and reaches across him into the bedside drawer. He comes back with lotion. Stefan’s preparation for this shouldn’t surprise him. Who knows how many people he’s had up here? His flirtation with passersby and even witnesses was not exactly subtle during their cases. This is more than that, though. It’ll take more than just shameless flirtation to get to Cole Phelps. But now, Stefan is smirking at him and his pulse is throbbing in his neck. “I might be able to change this no-begging bet by the end of the night.”

“You’re such a jackass.”

“Mmm, you love it.” Stefan leans over him and adjusts his legs a little, hitching one about his waist and easing the other to the sheets. “Now, Cole, you’re gonna have to relax for me. I know that’s easier said than done with a stick-in-the-ass like you.”

Cole shakes his head, but then gasps as Stefan first breaches him. “I said, relax, Detective. You’re good at following orders.”

Stefan is trying to distract him. He lays kisses over his neck and collarbone, biting lightly then soothing the marks, but it can’t take Cole’s mind off the sensation of being entered slowly. It is just one finger, but hell, that is one more finger than ever before. He holds on to Stefan’s arm, squeezing it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Cole,” he insists. “Did I let anything bad happen to you when we were partners?”

“You threatened Mickey Cohen’s men and nearly got us killed,” Cole reminds him.

Stefan smiles. “Oh yeah.”

He can’t believe it, but Stefan’s bad banter is actually helping him to loosen up. Stefan adds a second finger and he shifts, then accepts it a little easier. The sensation is strange and he can’t see himself coming to enjoy it quite yet, but at least he can tolerate it now. And Stefan is kissing at his ear, tonguing at the lobe and the side of his jaw, which is apparently a very sensitive spot. He keeps him in place with his free hand, closing his eyes. “That’s it,” Stefan grins. “Doing better now. Good boy.”

A bolt of arousal hits him at the praise. Stefan feels him shudder. “Should have known you’d like that,” he says. “You didn’t seem so keen on the attention earlier.”

That’s because it wasn’t from you, he thinks, and is only half-surprised at it. He tries to come up with a response, but then Stefan is scissoring his fingers inside of him and it is a whole new barrage of feelings to work out. Most of them good now. He lifts his leg to wrap it, with the other, around Stefan’s waist, and Stefan lets him. He presses them back a little, getting more access.

A third finger. Cole squeezes Stefan’s arm harder and bites his bottom lip. “I can’t read you for shit, Cole,” Stefan says. “Are you enjoying this or not? You can take it, right?”

Cole breathes in. Then he nods. “Yes to both?”

He nods again. 

“Attaboy.”

It is enough to get Cole to open up that little bit more. Stefan gets deeper, stretching him. Gradually, when he is ready, he starts to move in and out. Cole’s head falls back against the pillow. He can feel a deep flush running down his neck, sweat starting to gather. It is new and strange and he is beginning to like it. His hips press down onto Stefan’s hand and he gets an appreciative hum in reply. They fall into a rhythm that has Cole trembling. It is obvious Stefan knows what he’s doing, and that turns him on more and more. 

Somewhere down the line, Stefan suddenly crooks his fingers. The reaction is immediate. Cole arches at the sharp, almost painful, rush of pleasure that shoots through him. “Uh, Stefan -“ he hears himself say throatily. Stefan smirks smugly and shifts in just the same way. He hits that spot again and Christ, Cole swears he sees stars. 

“You like that?” Stefan grins, knowing very well what the answer is. He does it again, and again, and again, and Cole grabs frantically at the sheets. He can’t keep his moans in check. God, it feels good. Stefan is doing his best to torment him, all three fingers massaging his target. 

“Stefan -“ he sighs, thrusting down. Suddenly, he wants more. Control slips through his grasp as sense is throttled by his pleasure. Stefan reads his mind, pressing up hard and fast.

“You think you can take another one?” he asks. Without thinking, Cole nods. Four fingers in and he presses his face into Stefan’s neck, trying to muffle his cries. Stefan gets right where he wants him, stroking him. He wants him to carry on, but suddenly, he is stopping. Cole realises how fast his heart is thundering. He has to take harsh sips of air as Stefan pulls back and sits between his spread legs. 

“I think you’re ready for me, partner,” he teases. Cole fights for the words. But they die in his throat as Stefan finally unbuttons his pants and undresses himself completely. He swallows audibly. All that talk of how good he is with women (and men, apparently) seemed, to Cole, that he was hiding something. But... He looks away, up to Stefan’s eyes.

Stefan is grinning when he settles back between his thighs, kissing at his neck. “You know,” he says. “I won’t mind it if you want to say how big I am.”

Cole huffs and rolls his eyes. He definitely does not want to push Stefan’s ego like that.

“Trust me, you’ll be thanking me later.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I haven’t had any complaints before. All the feedback has been very good.” 

Cole shakes his head. “Trust me,” Stefan grins. And then he is using more lotion and easing Cole’s knees back a little more, giving himself better access. Cole’s heart suddenly ricochets into his throat. It is a feeling of utter vulnerability. He is out of control, layers stripped away to this one moment. Nagging uncertainty twists in his stomach. But Stefan nuzzles his neck, kisses his mouth in a way that is far too affectionate for just a one-night thing, and says, again, “trust me.”

He starts to push in. Cole’s legs tighten about his sides. Invasion. The word won’t leave his head. His body wants to reject it. He hates feeling this insecure, this defenceless. He turns his face away from Stefan and squeezes shut his eyes. “The second I hurt you,” Stefan says, voice a little thinner. “You tell me, and I’ll stop, alright? The second you don’t want to do this -“

“I can take it, Bekowsky.”

“I know you can take it, Cole. But if you’re not enjoying it...”

Cole shakes his head. “Keep going.”

Stefan obviously thinks it’s wiser not to ask again. He anchors himself with a hand beside Cole on the pillow, and moves his hips a little more. Cole feels the burn of the stretch piercing through his belly. He grits his teeth. The same anticipation and adrenaline as when he is standing on the roof opposite an armed suspect throbs in his veins. He doesn’t know what is going to happen, it’s all out of his hands now. Stefan can tell he needs distraction. He leans down and kisses his cheek and ear, sucking at the lobe. Cole untwists his hands from the sheets and places them on his shoulders. His fingers dig in as Stefan enters him more. “You’re doing good, partner. Halfway there now.”

“Just half -“ Cole manages without thinking. Stefan laughs.

“‘Fraid so.”

“Jesus.”

He concentrates on his breathing. Stefan is treating him like he’s going to break, and he knows the uncomfortable expression on his face is not helping things. He is back to wondering how the hell anyone can enjoy this. His arousal is flagging a little, and he gets the feeling that he should apologise to Stefan. But he keeps his mouth shut. He wants him to carry on, he wants his mind to be on anything but the Vice desk, anything but the cases, anything but the flood of emotions and guilt they have brought up again...

Stefan suddenly moves his hips harsher. Cole tenses and lets out a strangled gasp. He has just taken the rest of him in. His body aches in response. Stefan lingers above him, panting. A flush is rising up his neck. “Fuck, Cole, you feel good,” he breathes. 

The praise helps to ease him a bit. He knows that Stefan must be holding back. Cole has been thinking of himself too much. He swallows and nods. “Okay, okay, you can move.”

“You’re ready?”

“Just do it.”

Stefan can hear the uncertainty in his voice. He’d have to be an idiot not to. But he obeys him. He eases out a little, and moves his hips, thrusting oh so slowly. Cole feels every inch of him pushing against his insides. “Jesus,” he says again, turning away. Stefan catches him with a thumb on his chin. 

“Hey,” he utters softly. “Look at me.”

Their eyes lock. Cole is suddenly very conscious of the fact that he is trapped underneath him and hell, it is Stefan above him. The reality of their situation hits him, and the panic it brings. He can’t do this. He has screwed up enough, he can’t bring Stefan down with him. It isn’t like when they were partners anymore. There is so much more baggage and complications now. 

He doesn’t deserve this. That is what it boils down to.

But Stefan leans over him and links his fingers through his. He captures his lips and kisses him, slowly, tenderly, easing open his mouth. It is so different from the heated exchanges before. Cole feels his heart twist into a knot. It strangles him dizzily as he responds. The desire - the affection - inside of him begins to simmer back to the surface with every slide of their tongues together, with every drag of Stefan’s lips against him. His eyes roll back. He barely notices it as Stefan matches his rhythm with their kiss.

They break apart when air runs out. Stefan rests his forehead against Cole’s, breathing heavily over his swollen, bruised lips. He seems to want to say something, but there is nothing. He opts with squeezing their hands together and beginning to move his hips faster.

Now he is relaxed, Cole is starting to accept it. He feels Stefan ease out a little way then slide back in. His mouth opens, eyes closing. His arousal has returned after that kiss and the heat growing in his stomach is good. It grows with every movement of Stefan inside of him. Unconsciously, he is moving back against him. 

“Mmm, Christ, Cole, you feel fucking incredible,” Stefan sighs, voice shaking a little. “You feel even better than I imagined,” he adds teasingly. Cole swallows.

“You really - you really wanted this since Traffic?”

Stefan nods. “You drove me insane. Still do.”

The feeling of being wanted so much is amazing. He still tries to tell himself that he doesn’t deserve it but every one of Stefan’s thrusts is pulling that doubt away. All he can think about is the slide of him, the smooth rhythm, the way he kissing at his neck, tormenting the sensitive skin. Cole’s pulse is thundering against his wandering lips. He moves his head, getting him to do the same to the other side. Stefan sighs softly at his eagerness. “Attaboy,” he murmurs. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

He lets Stefan in. Bit by bit, the walls come down. He reaches up and tangles his fingers into Stefan’s hair, mussing it out of its style and pulling him into another kiss. Stefan is all too glad to give him one. 

They fall into a perfect synchronicity. Stefan thrusts in and Cole pushes down onto him. When they break the kiss, he is panting. Stefan is filling him right up and he can feel every single inch inside of him. He is getting deeper, more confident in what he can do to him. “Stefan,” he hears himself murmur. 

“I’m here.”

It feels so good. Cole closes his eyes and drowns in the sensation. Stefan keeps up the stimulation against his throat and neck, spare hand running all over his chest and side. He settles on his thigh and draws it higher. The angle shifts. Deeper. Oh god, this is it. This is exactly what he needs. Stefan senses it, going harder. Cole’s hips bounce against the bed. “Ah, Stefan -“ 

He tries to bite his lip, but he can’t stop himself anymore. He moans as Stefan thrusts inside of him, arching his neck back against the pillow. Jesus, he hadn’t thought it could be as good as this. His heart is soaring, bleeding over every sound he is making. Stefan groans into his neck. He can feel him shaking. “I’m sorry, partner, I can’t go slow anymore -“ he sighs.

Cole barely has time to comprehend that, barely has time to compose himself, before Stefan is increasing the pace. He pulls out then slams in hard. Cole arches in sheer pleasure. His legs tighten about his waist. “Oh god, Stefan!” he hears himself cry. Stefan anchors himself and begins to fuck him with an intensity that turns Cole inside out, jarring his body, driving the sense out of him. His mouth stretches open, eyes rolled back. The bed whines loudly. There is a moment when Cole panics and thinks that the neighbours are going to hear but then Stefan shifts and slams straight into just the right place, and fuck, he can’t think of anything. It is shameful how quick he loses it, even more shameful how much he doesn’t care.

He throws his head back, digging his heels into Stefan, forcing him deeper, making sure he stays on target. He feels like he is on fire. Every hit against his prostate is driving him crazy. He can’t breathe, his heart stifling his throat, his limbs shaking. He is vaguely aware that he is scratching at Stefan’s back, vaguely aware that the headboard is beating the wall obscenely, vaguely aware that he is moaning so fucking loud. Christ in heaven, he can’t see straight anymore. Every inch of Stefan is putting so much pressure on his target and - and - “fuck, Stefan, don’t stop,” he babbles. He can’t recognise himself anymore.

Stefan shifts position one more time, and somehow, hits him even harder. Stars are bursting behind Cole’s eyelids. He can feel the heat building, curling up his spine, getting into his bloodstream. He reaches between them but Stefan bats him away and does the job for him. He strokes him to his rhythm, squeezing, thumb swiping the slick head. Cole almost tears the sheets in his hands. He arches off the bed, Stefan’s name pouring over his lips. “Oh fuck, Cole,” Stefan swears roughly. “Fuck -“

Hearing Stefan like that is what sends Cole over the edge. Stefan hits his target three more times and a climax like no other slams into him like a train. His hips buck and he comes so hard that his whole body can feel the shock of it, so hard that he is damn near sobbing. Stefan holds him close and fucks him all the way through it. It keeps going and going and going in vicious waves, almost painful in its intensity. He can do nothing but submit.

Stefan follows him soon after. He buries his cries in his neck, limbs giving underneath him. 

For a minute or so, they stay like that, Cole’s legs spread around him, arms wrapped about Stefan’s back. They are both breathing harshly. It takes a while for reality to return to Cole. He looks up, dazed, as Stefan eases away. “You good?” he asks.

Cole nods.

“You can say wow,” Stefan smirks. “I won’t judge you.”

“Shit,” Cole goes for instead. 

“That’s good too.”

Gradually, Stefan pulls off him. Cole is aching pleasantly from head to foot. He barely perceives it as Stefan disappears for a moment and returns to clean them up. When he is done, he crawls back onto the bed with him. Cole groans softly. “I’d ask if you want to stay the night,” Stefan teases, “but I don’t think you can move.”

Cole huffs. “Arrogance is ugly on you, Bekowsky.”

“Arrogance? I almost put my hand over your mouth. I thought you were gonna scream, Phelps.”

“I have more self-control than that.”

“I don’t think you do.” Stefan huddles him close and wraps an arm about his waist. Cole places a hand on it to keep him close. He wants to embrace him more, but he is too tired. Stefan is right. He can barely move. 

The cars pass by outside. For the first time, Cole realises there is a clock ticking across the room. It is all so comfortable and serene. Cole knows that this isn’t the cure-all. He knows there is still a long way to go, and problems still exist outside these four walls, but for the moment, for the night, he feels safe. He feels secure. Stefan holds him close and in minutes, he is asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed these two dorks. Feedback always appreciated c:


End file.
